


The Thief and the Clobberer

by Sundapple



Series: We are the heroes (of our time) [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dialogue-Only, Gen, alternate uses of superstrength, choose your own destiny yaaaay, fun times in crime, idiot youngster, listen to your elders, seriously how do mooks ever survive past adolescence, superpowered cannon fodder, universe expansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6392266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sundapple/pseuds/Sundapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Criminal stakeouts are almost as good as sleepovers when it comes to discussing your purpose in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thief and the Clobberer

“Quit fidgeting.”

“I don’t get why we have to wait, we’ve been here for an hour already…”  


“We have to wait because there’s still a guard sitting right behind that door.”  


“So what? I could take him—“  


“Sure, hotshot, and then you’d trip every alarm in the building and he could tell the police that some wildcat of a pounder smashed his face in. I know you’re on record, kiddo; there’s no way they missed the chance to match your power to your prints after that mess with LaMancha’s crew last spring.”  


“So instead we sit here all night.”  


“Nah, just until the shift changes. Then I have a chance with my picks, and you sit oh-so-pretty behind the door until the next guard comes in. _Then_ you can have your fun. No faces, no problems.”  


“I still think it’s stupid slow.”  


“Okay, you…look, kid. People are always gonna’ expect you to be dumb because of what you can do. It’s up to you to decide whether that’s true or not. If you want, you can be the muscle, punching through walls for whatever idiot with a bit of telekinesis pays highest that week. You’ll make a fair bit of cash, jobs like that.”  


“Hey, it’s the main gig in town. Not a lot of options out there for ‘honest’ heavy lifting—”  


“Then Bastion’ll take you in for one too many hits and you’ll spend the rest of your days in the Zoo, squabbling for cell space with people just as strong as you—but a _lot_ meaner.”  


“Well, what else am I supposed to do? I’m a pounder, I pound things.”  


“But not all pounders are smashers. You get a reputation as a smasher, no serious crew will ever take you—they want people who can keep their mouth shut, who can _think_ , instead of just blasting through the roof with a baseball bat. The ones who make it are the ones who know how to wait. You’ve got _choices_ , kid. You could be a smasher…or you could be a ghost.”  


“What’s that supposed to mean?”  


“You heard of the Magician?”  


“ _Everyone’s_ heard of the Magician, she’s the biggest mystery in town. Cleaned out Morgenstern’s lock box without ever showing up on camera...”  


“And then left every member of the team he sent after her dead or unconscious, yeah. What do you think her power is?”  


“Well, no one knows, that’s the point, isn’t it? Most say high-level thinker, maybe a clairvoyant of some sort.”  


“Shows who you’ve been talking to, don’t it? Anyone who was on the streets more than eight years back could tell you, she’s a _pounder_ , kiddo.”  


“Come on, you’re expecting me to believe a strength boost got her into Morgenstern’s office? Everyone knows his security’s tighter than the banks’—he’s even got the place NCP-wiped to keep out teleporters!”  


“And none of that means jack shit if you can sneak your way past the cameras and ram a diamond-edged blade through the bolt. It’s an old trick, and Morgenstern was an idiot for forgetting about it. He relied too much on all his fancy tech, and paid for it. He’s on his way down now—someone’ll take him out within the month.”  


“…so how did she beat the cameras?”  


“Hell, I don’t know. I pick locks, not tech. But you think powers are the only way to do things? She hacked something, or paid someone, or maybe she just looked real careful at where the cameras were pointed. Point is, she thought her way through it—and now she’s the hottest stuff in town, at least for the moment. Gives you something to think about, huh?”  


“…I guess.”  


“Hey, don’t get sulky about it, kid, you’re just starting out. Us oldsters know some stuff—and one thing is that your power isn’t you. Figure out what you’re doing with it before the world decides for you, and you just might live long enough to get somewhere.”  


“I still think it sounds boring.”  


“Don’t worry, you’ll still get plenty of chances to bash heads together, if that’s what you like. Speaking of which…I think our man’s moving. Time for some sneaking, eh?”  


“…just so long as I get a chance to take out the next one.”  


“You will, kid. You will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever noticed how dumb superstrength-specific heroes and villains are with their powers? Strength (and often associated invulnerability) can do a lot more than make you good at throwing punches.
> 
> This is what happens when I sit down to write a story with a word limit; it's the same class assignment (one year later) as the one that lead to elentari7's "White Room", also in this series. I've been wanting to try a dialogue-only piece for a while, so I picked up one of the plot bunnies from this universe. 
> 
> Though I was careful not to give any identifying information about the characters other than rough age, I imagine them to be a fatherly, forty-year-old Italian fingersmith and a 5'2" 18-year-old Latina girl calling herself the Roaring Tiger or something of the sort. He's seen way too many of her type before. They're probably in Chicago, or maybe NYC. Somewhere you'd want to set a noir novel.


End file.
